


Annual

by infiniteeight



Series: Hawk!Clint [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't a proper sequel, just a quick flufflet in the same 'verse as Let Them Call It Mischief.</p>
<p>Clint starts molting, and Phil collects each and every feather. What's he doing with them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annual

They were curled up on the couch together, watching a (terrible) movie when Phil noticed the first one. He was carding his fingers through Clint's feathers--well, hair and feathers, but it was the scratching at the base of the feathers that made Clint's eyelids droop in contentment--when one of them came loose. He drew it slowly from Clint's scalp, half hoping it wouldn't slip free, but it did, caught between Phil's fingers. He stared at it, stricken.

After a moment, Clint turned his head, probably wondering why he'd stopped scratching. Phil couldn't quite manage to unfreeze.

"Hey," Clint said, tugging on Phil's wrist. Phil had to force himself to look Clint in the eye. To his surprise, Clint was smiling. "It's okay, Phil," he said gently. "Hawks molt annually. It's been about a year, yeah?"

Phil had to think about it, but Clint was right. His shoulders unknotted all at once and he slumped, leaning his forehead against Clint's. "Yeah," he said aloud. "Jesus. I knew hawks molt, I just…forgot."

Clint chuckled and kissed him, slow and easy. "Back to scratching? Molting makes my scalp itch something awful."

Phil laughed and buried his fingers in Clint's feathers.

*

Despite the reassurance, Clint noticed that Phil was keeping watch on his feathers. Every time one came loose Phil was there, drawing it free and gently scratching Clint's scalp. He'd even pick them off Clint's clothes, if he missed one, or off the floor on the rare occasions a feather made it that far. 

He might have put it down to Phil being a bit of a neat freak, the same as if he'd been cleaning up bits of lint or discarded wrappers, except he didn't just throw them out. He tucked them carefully into the breast pocket of his suit, instead. Not even the hip pockets, as if he was afraid they'd be damaged.

Clint was stretched out on couch, eyes closed, his head resting on Phil's thigh, Phil's fingers tenderly working through his feathers, when he finally gave into curiosity. "Am I gonna have to worry about you collecting my fingernail clippings next?" he asked, nevertheless arching into the touch when Phil's fingers dug into a particularly sensitive spot.

Phil laughed softly. "No. If you'll let me up for a second, I can show you."

Clint opened one eye and peered up at him. "You come right back."

"Promise." Phil leaned down and kissed him on the temple, so Clint grudgingly raised his head to let Phil slide out from beneath him. True to his word, he was only gone for a moment, sliding back into place as Clint's cushion when he returned. "Here," he offered, lowering an object into Clint's field of view.

It was an arrow. Not one of Clint's tactical ones, just a regular arrow with a wooden shaft and a simple metal point and feathers for fletching.

Really familiar feathers.

Clint reached out and took the arrow, sliding it through his hands until he could brush a careful finger over the delicate fletching. The feathers were stiff and neatly trimmed, secured to the shaft of the arrow with a precise line of glue. "Mine?" he murmured.

"Yes." Phil's fingers were back, petting his scalp. He hesitated. "I hope it's not strange. I just…they were your first set. They're special."

Clint sat up and crawled into Phil's lap, holding the arrow carefully out of harm's way as he put his arms around Phil's neck. He smiled at the way Phil wasn't quite biting his lip. "I love you."

Phil let out a sharp breath. "Thank God."

Clint kissed him through his grin.


End file.
